Page 74 of For the Love of the Quest

Thomasin’s heart pounded. She had called so many bluffs in her life, and it had always been easy because she never cared about losing. But this she couldn’t bear.

“Don’t tell him!” Edith gasped.

Worthing pulled her neck back even farther, causing Edith to sputter and choke. Her fists opened and closed at her sides, grasping at nothing.

“This is your last chance, Thomasin. Tell me, or you will watch her die.”

When Thomasin said nothing, Worthing pushed the blade harder into Edith’s neck. A gasp escaped her mouth before she clamped her lips together. But Thomasin could see her whole body go stiff with pain. Worthing was cutting slowly, the knife digging at her flesh, blood welling around the iron.

“The staff!” Thomasin shouted.

Worthing paused, raising a single eyebrow.

“We put the staff in the statue,” Thomasin gritted out, her shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath. “That’s how we raised the door.”

“Interesting.” Worthing cocked his head to the side. With the hand that wasn’t currently holding a dagger to Edith’s throat, he unholstered his pistol. Unfortunately, Worthing’s aim had always been sure. His skill rivaled Thomasin herself. He fired at the statue. The bullet cracked through the middle of the staff, breaking it jaggedly in two. The top half fell from Merlin’s hand, and the bottom half toppled to the ground. The crystal shattered into a shimmering dust.

Thomasin almost thought that nothing would happen. She should have known better. Luck had never been on her side. Not with all the terrible things she had done in her short life.

A clunky, mechanical noise shuddered through the tomb.

The stone panel slid down from the ceiling, beginning its slow descent back to the ground. With the knife still at Edith’s neck, Thomasin was trapped. She had no choice but to stay in the amethyst room and watch herself be entombed forever. If these were her last moments of freedom, she would not waste them.

She looked at Edith. The wall continued to fall. It blocked Worthing’s face, but not Edith’s yet. Thomasin wanted to savor every second before this last beautiful sight was taken too. There were tears streaking down Edith’s face, and panic flared in her eyes.She struggled against Worthing’s grip, every one of her muscles pulled taut.

When the panel passed over the crown of Edith’s head, something happened. Something all the more terrifying than that merciless wall falling. Thomasin watched as Edith’s body relaxed. Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. Just before the wall blocked her view of Edith’s eyes, Thomasin saw the fear ice over. Edith wasn’t scared anymore, and for the first time since Worthing kicked away the staff, Thomasin was breathless with terror.

There was nothing Thomasin could do to stop her. Edith’s fingers curled around the dagger that was still tucked into her belt. Perhaps with the wall now halfway down, Worthing had lowered his guard, because Edith was able to surprise him. Thomasin dropped to her knees, afraid to look away.

Edith kicked her heel into Worthing’s groin. His knees buckled. Edith’s feet pivoted, pulling away from his hold. Her arm swung downward. The knife slashed across the back of his knees. Worthing crashed to the ground. His hands reached out, scrambling to catch hold of Edith, but she danced out of his reach.

And then she did the one thing that Thomasin was afraid of above all else.

Edith ran for the ever-narrowing gap between the falling wall and the floor.

“No!” Thomasin roared.

But Edith’s focus was single-minded. The gap was barely two feet now. Thomasin was on all fours, screaming at Edith. All she could see was her knees, her shins, her feet pounding against the earth.

Edith slid feet first, her heels sending up a cloud of dirt and dust.

The wall met the ground with a final, deafening thunk.

Thomasin choked out a sob. On trembling limbs, she crawled to Edith. Her arms were over her head, and she was curled into a little ball, a mere inch away from the wall. A second later, and she would have been crushed.

Yanking Edith’s hands away from her head, Thomasin pulled her up so that she was sitting. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Thomasin was crying now. She shook Edith. Hard. “Why would you do this?”

Edith was crying too. Great heaving sobs. She could barely get her words out around them. “I couldn’t let you die.” The same thing she had said over and over again at the church. But this time, there was more. She gulped, and her lips shook as she spoke. “I couldn’t let you die without knowing how much I love you.”

Thomasin’s head bowed, her face crumpling.

“I couldn’t let you die alone,” Edith whispered.

Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? They were going to die. But that wasn’t the reason Thomasin was sobbing like she never had before. Edith hadn’t run into the amethyst room because she thought she could save them. Edith had sacrificed herself, condemned herself to a terrible death, just so Thomasin would know she was loved. It was a choice that couldn’t be undone.

Theirs was a love that couldn’t be undone. Thomasin would die in peace, if it weren’t for one thing. She looked up at Edith’s beautiful face. The single candle cast harsh shadows across her soft cheeks and the gentle curve of her jaw. Thomasin took her face between her hands, her thumbs brushing away the steady stream of tears.

“You’re not meant to die here,” she said, quietly but firmly.